


Be me, then we'll talk

by the_authors_exploits



Series: AJ's AUs [12]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Gen, jason has a twin who's also his spirit clone??, the beginning of an unhealthy codependency, the pit does weird magic shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-08 17:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19873405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_authors_exploits/pseuds/the_authors_exploits
Summary: He's more unhinged than Jason, a bit more manic, a bit more bloodthirsty. That's the Pit in him.He's more stable though. The Pit did that too.





	Be me, then we'll talk

Jason coughed him out of his lungs, like some sort of possessed demon. It's oddly fitting when his skin glows in just the right limelight, when his eyes turn maniacally mad, when he paints the walls with the blood of al Ghul's best men and grins with teeth sharpened to a point.

Not literally of course; his skin doesn't glow and his teeth aren't pointed. His eyes are crazy though and those who forced Jason to drown in that horrid liquid are decapitated.

Jason closes his eyes. He wishes he were still dead.

  
  
  


When he comes to, it’s to a dimly lit hallway--a nook, tucked away in the meandering halls of the al Ghul estate, where only the distant cries of chaos can be heard. In the shadows is a wildman adorned in a blood soaked ceremonial chiffon; Jason knows he’s grinning, but his pearly whites are hidden in the darkness.

Jason turns his gaze away, as if the devil could possess him again with just a look, and the creature surges forward to grasp at his chin; oddly enough, he doesn’t feel threatened. It’s a curious feeling, to not feel threatened but especially so by this mirror.

Pearly green upon oceanic. Jason gazing into himself.

“Am I a part of you?” The other tips their head one way, then the other. “A copy? Something needed or something wanted?”

Jason finds himself laughing; it rips out of his throat and into the air around them. The other leans closer again, curious, and huffs low in his chest in a mimicry. Jason wets his lips--chapped, voice sore from disuse--and wills his numb tongue to move.

“I don’t know what you are.”

A sudden grin, not a mimicry, the one people will learn to fear, graces the other’s lips; thinly pulled across those sharp looking teeth. “And what are you?”

Jason’s breaths come in quick. “A mistake.”

He knew that moments before he died.

  
  
  


The other takes the name of Kai, for whatever appeal it has for him.

“It’s a strong name,” he argues; there’s a laptop open in front of him, a website for baby names open on the screen, despite Kai’s insistence that he’s technically as old as Jason is and is Jason a baby? No, not the slightest. He leans the rickety chair on its back legs and brushes a hand through his unruly hair. “Like yours.”

Jason fumbles for a handful of popcorn, most of his attention on the jacket in his hands. “Kai means ocean.”

“Jason means healer.”

Jason stops everything he’s doing. “Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Says who?”

Kai motions to the laptop. “Ourbabies.com!”

“They’re lying; come here and try this.”

Kai pops up like a jack-in-the-box and Jason wonders if his clone somehow zapped all his energy. “Gimme!” he takes the jacket and hikes it over his shoulders; he settles into it, then throws his arms wide in a grande gesture. “So? What do you think?”

Jason eyes his handy work; it’s not his best, but it’s not his worst either. While the sleeves have been cut off and fashionably frayed at the hem, the jacket is still an effective piece of show armor; it has plenty of hidden pockets for various weaponry and still protects the chest area well. Jason playfully twirls his finger and Kai dutifully turns in a circle. “I suppose it’ll do.”

Kai grins--a brighter grin than the one when his eyes go distant--and ruffles Jason’s hair. “I think so too.” He turns and enters the bathroom, leaving Jason to clean up the sewing supplies by himself.

"Ya know," Jason calls after him; he snags up a couple empty and crushed soda cans on his way to the garbage can. "You could help out around here more."

Jason here's Kai shuffle back into the room and turns to see him holding a knife, grin just barely tipping into insanity; Jason holds his hands up in mocked fear.

"Geez, you could just say no."

"That'd be too easy." Kai pats the bed. "Get over here; we gotta do something about our hair, bro."

Jason eyes the way the light glints off the metal. "Like I'm letting you near me with a sharp weapon."

"Would you prefer I chop off your long ass hair with a pair of blunt scissors? Get over here!"

Jason knows he has a point; both of them have way more hair than is necessary, so he obliges and Kai is kind enough to cut Jason's hair in a style he finds tolerable. An undershave, with just enough hair at the top to slick back.

When it's Kai's turn, the boy sits so still Jason finds it oddly threatening. He says as much, and Kai just laughs.

"You know I'd never hurt you." There's a pause; the shick of hair being sheered and the imaginable plunk it makes when it hits the stiff carpet. "You do know that, right?"

Jason doesn't say anything.

  
  
  


Kai is vocal, so much so that Jason just lets him do the talking. He buys the beginning of their arsenal--a couple AKs and five handguns--with some not so subtly veiled threats; they get the weapons at half price. Maybe they saw the gates of hell in Kai's eyes.

"You should've gotten six pistols."

Kai tips his head to the side. "Why?"

"Because I know we're gonna fight over that fifth one when we could've each had an even three."

Very quietly Kai mutters "but where's the fun in that?" and Jason bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking.

  
  
  


"Boo, come check this out!"

Jason is already halfway out of the bathroom, towel drying his hair, before he realizes what he was just called. His brows scrunch and he eyes Kai. "Did you just call me 'boo'?"

Kai nods, points to the television; his hair is close cut and spiky, fitting for his personality. "Lookie who broke out of Arkham."

A glance to the TV then back to his counterpart; it's Riddler. A weight slightly lifts and then resettles somewhere else. "Don't call me boo again."

"You're a ghost, aintcha?" His shoulders lift only to dramatically fall. "Boo's cute."

"No."

"Then what am I gonna call you when we're out on the streets?"

Jason doesn't exactly stomp forward but it's close and snatches the helmet from Kai. "Red Hood."

Kai hums, grin slowly growing, and taps Jason on the nose. "Sure thing, Boo."

  
  
  


Jason isn't the one who tosses a bag of decapitated heads in the middle of a drug lord meeting; he's also not the one who leans casually against the railing and makes a quip about yelling at the guy holding the AK-47. No one knows that, though; they just think Red Hood is fashionable with his interchangeable jackets.

Jason is the one masterminding it all; he gets Batman to chase him halfway across the city, cackles at Nightwing's presence. He sends a rocket straight into Black Mask's office and Kai whoops at the explosion.

"Do it again! Do it again!"

"That's overkill." He can sense Kai's pout.

"Says the one rigging explosives in his safehouse."

Jason ignores him, turns to leave.

"What happens if you die again, Jason?" Kai has sunk to the edge of the roof, one leg dangling dangerously while the other is left bent for his arm to rest on; in the distance, the flames still burn. "Do you think they'll bury you again?"

"You'd better make sure I'm cremated."

His arms go wide. "Scatter your ashes to the wind?"

Jason huffs and leaves him there.

  
  
  


Kai likes bourbon; Jason prefers whiskey. Kai likes the color green and Jason shrugs nonchalantly. Kai's eyes are a more seafoam green, with Jason sporting a uniform pearl green. Kai keeps his hair short; Jason too but the styles are wildly different. Same with their clothing choices at GoodWill.

Kai sleeps through the night; Jason doesn't.

  
  
  


"I swear," Kai mumbles around a mouthful of waffles. "If you don't stop drinking coffee it'll stunt your growth."

Jason takes a long and loud sip from his cup, which makes Kai laugh, which makes Jason smile. It's not so bad to have a shadow-self; Jason realizes it'd never really crossed his mind to return to Gotham without him. Which should be alarming in someway; Jason is bitter, he should know better than to trust someone else. Trust a partner.

But this isn't just a partner; Kai calls over the waitress to refill Jason's coffee, and Jason just watches him. Watches the ease in which Kai socializes, the ease in his shoulders, the lack of paranoia any street kid would have.

This is himself. At least, a part of himself. He lacks the caution Jason prides himself in, the tension the Pit couldn't erase from broken bones and split tendons. He acts in a way that dares anyone to hurt him, all while having never suffered, and Jason feels mildly jealous.

Kai looks at him from the corner of his eye, picking bacon from his molars, and finally gives Jason his full attention. "What, you wanted tea instead?"

If Jason can't trust himself then he's doomed.

  
  
  


Kai is a borderline psychopath; Jason wonders if he too is psychopathic. Or was there a possibility of going off the deep end and the Pit took that from him? Put it in Kai; Jason ponders this as Kai washes the blood off his hands in an alleyway.

“I’m gonna need knew gloves!” He calls out, all chipperlike, and Jason grits his teeth. “Boo bro!” He sing songs, emerging from the shadows, and Jason turns away. “Aw, don’t be like that; what’d I do wrong?”

Nothing; he did nothing wrong, in all technicality. The guy was a mean pimp; he didn’t take care of his girls and Jason knows even the ones who do aren’t the best people out there. Sugar and Lolli and tens of others won’t have to hide bruises anymore, won’t have to take jobs they aren’t comfortable with. They can still pack pepper spray and tasers, but it’s more of a commodity now.

For that, Jason is happy. Satisfied. But there’s a toothy grin stuck in his mind, the blankness that shutters over ocean eyes, and a scream still echoing off the alley walls.

“Jason.” Kai snags his arm and Jason yanks away; but Kai is a determined person and he grabs Jason’s arm again. “Don’t walk away from me; what’d I do?”

He flails to get away, pulling away and batting at Kai’s hands, and it devolves into an uncoordinated slapping match; finally, Jason shoves Kai away and explodes. “You enjoyed it! You liked his pain, you wanted him to suffer!”

Kai raises a brow, grins crookedly. “Kinky.”

“For fuck’s sake…” Jason turns away again, but this time doesn’t shake Kai’s hand off when he reaches out.

“I’m sorry I made you upset. But...yeah, I wanted him to suffer; just like his girls did. I think he deserved it.”

For a moment, it’s quiet; then Jason shakes his head, looking down at their feet in shame.

“I do too.”

Kai, wisely, doesn’t react to that.

  
  
  


Bruce puts the pieces together easily; runs a DNA test, chases Jason in the rain to his safehouse. Jason pulls Joker from a closet and holds a gun to the maniac’s head; he gives Batman an ultimatum, and Bruce chooses. Chooses what Jason vaguely knew he would, but wildly hoped he wouldn’t. In a moment of desperation, he aims his gun at Batman’s back--an easy dodge, easy toss of a batarang, and the gun backfires, blowing skin off his fingers.

Fine then; plan B. This was why he rigged the explosives; so let them all die. Let them all be blown to hell; at least then maybe things can change around Gotham. He sits down, waits for the numbers to count down a second time, wonders briefly where Kai might scatter his ashes.

Except, with only moments left, Batman pushes Joker out of the way and grabs Jason; he’s too out of it to even react, to even contemplate that maybe Bruce would choose him over the Joker. He just knows that in moments the building blows up and he’s still breathing.

  
  
  


He managed to drag himself from the rubble and into a side alleyway; he’s now sitting against a rusty dumpster, breathing heavily against cracked legs and his head spinning horribly. He smacks his lips, spreading the blood, and refuses to flex his shattered fingers.

Boots slap in a wet puddle and Jason rolls his head to the side; Kai comes rushing down the alleyway in a pair of skinny jeans and loose shirt, frayed jacket in place, and he comes to a sudden halt looming above Jason. He’s not even breathing heavy.

“Well, you look like shit.”

Jason gives a bloody smile. “Kinky?”

Kai rolls his eyes and bends down, grasping him under the arms, and Jason doesn’t worry about anything else.

  
  
  


Kai sits besides him on a dingy motel bed, bowl of ice cream in his hands, and Jason blinks sluggishly; Kai runs cold fingertips through his hair, rubbing his velvet shave gently.

“Hungry, boo? I can grab you a smoothie if you want; some yogurt, oatmeal.”

Jason eyes the television; it’s some black and white movie. Dracula or Frankenstein. He isn’t very hungry, so he doesn’t answer. Kai understands; he turns the volume up a little bit and returns to his ice cream.

There’s another difference between them, Jason realizes, watching Kai in the low light of an early morning; he’s in a pair of sweatpants, shirtless, and he sets the bowl down to fluff the blankets.

Jason is covered in scars; from the streets, cutting himself on broken glass in the back streets, taking a punch from a man bigger than him… Scars from being Robin; from fighting men bigger than him and too crazy to live in this world, from practicing in a small body against monstrous dummies. Scars from...

Kai has no scars; the one across Jason’s left brow from a knife wound is not mirrored onto his right brow, his chest is absent of any raised skin in a Y formation, his knuckles are smooth if cracked from a beat down the other day...

Jason closes his eyes, wonders momentarily if Kai has any memories of the street, of being Robin--or if his life really started at the Pit.

For now, it doesn’t matter; what matters is that his ribs hurt, a nice old movie is playing softly, and Kai is standing watch. He’ll deal with everything else later.


End file.
